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infants are stamped to maximize efficiency
to help society run smoothly, you understand
yes, they're stamped
right between their chubby little legs
categorized in neat little boxes
pretty or handsome, lovely or strong
pink or blue
pink or blue
they grow up
hopefully able to fit in their box
if not, oh well
it's a shame, but there are flaws in the system
sometimes the barcode gets smudged
the lines are blurred, the parents are
uncomfortable
not to worry, doctors can fix that
make them fit in their neat little box
it is clear that
purple children do not belong
This poem is about:
Me
My community
Our world